


Slow Burn

by imadragonkindofgirl



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadragonkindofgirl/pseuds/imadragonkindofgirl
Summary: The story of a friendship that progresses into something much more. Snippets of Elain and Azriel's journey to finding a home in one another.





	1. Truthteller

She found him with his back leaning against a tree. Everyone else was relaxing around the camp, enjoying a moment’s worth of rest after an agonizing win.This one battle had changed everything. The emotions running through the camp were like an iceberg: deeper than anything seen on the surface. She felt relief, horror, fullness, and emptiness.

Azriel’s eyes were closed and his head was leaning back against the tree, but she would be remiss to think he couldn’t feel her presence in front of him. His face was relaxed and closed.

“I figured you would want this back,” she said softly, unsure if she should disturb him. His eyes blinked open and he glance up at her. He looked into her outstretched hands with Truthteller balanced between them.

As if he could tell she was slightly skittish about bothering him, he nodded beside him and asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

Elain felt a smile twitch on her lip and she sank onto the ground, leaning against the same tree. She felt him next to her, shoulder to bicep and hip to hip. She avoided leaning back, careful not to touch the still-healing membrane of his wings.

Azriel reached over gently plucking the blade from her grasp while she said, “Looks like you were right about the blade. Striking true and all.”

He regarded her quietly and rasped a barely audible chuckle, “I think you deserve more credit than Truthteller, no matter how magical it may be.”

Elain smiled softly and gave him a curious look, “Why did you give it to me?”

It took so long for Azriel to answer, she thought he had fallen asleep. She jolted when she heard his deep voice spoke, “When I was most fearful, feeling this steel by my side gave me strength. It may be a little superstitious, but I wanted to give you some comfort and give you strength. It was the first thing that came to my mind.”

“It did. It made me feel stronger.”

“You are strong, Elain. Much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Elain felt her cheeks blush at the intensity his tone and she ducked her head, “Thank you, for knowing what it was I needed.”

“No, Elain. Thank you,” Azriel’s voice choked and she felt his beautiful fingers gripping hers. Startled, she looked up into his eyes. Then, she knew what he was really thanking her for. For saving Cassian, his brother, when he couldn’t reach him in time. For risking her life to take out their enemy.

She gripped his hands back, “You’ve all saved me, especially you. I-I’ve come to care what happens to you all. I’ll do whatever it takes. You all are my family now.”

He gave her the gentlest smile she’d ever witnessed from another person, “Welcome to the fold, El.”

Elain's face took on a bewildered look, "That's the first time anyone has given me a nickname."

His lips curled up on one side, “Well then, feel free to call me whatever you want.”

Azriel's eyes closed again. She knew she would have to think about what to call him.

 _Maybe Az_ , she thought to herself.

Only the sound of crackling bonfires and murmuring voices could be heard. But sitting there with Azriel, the pain did not leave but its sharp edges dulled.


	2. Flashback

It hadn’t been long since Elain had made Velaris her permanent residence. After the war, they came back to a city that was still tirelessly working to maintain its thriving atmosphere and restore itself after the Hybern attack. It was hard for Elain to imagine the City of Starlight any more perfect than it was, yet she knew looking at the few boarded windows and old scars on walkways that there was work to be done. That day, Elain had joined Feyre in volunteering to help some of the businesses to prepare their shops for their re-opening. It felt good to use her hands for healing.

Feyre had just finished using paint to help stain a new window for the shops front display and Elain was putting final touches on a flower arrangement when Rhys walked through the stores front, Mor and Azriel following closely behind him.

The High Lord bowed theatrically, “Would you two fair ladies be interested in joining us for lunch?”

Elain tried and failed to restrain a giggle when Feyre rolled her eyes at her mate. “Always with the theatrics,” though she walked to the High Lord and leaned in for a short, sweet kiss.

Elain smiled at them, “Just a moment!” Elain turned back to the bouquet, tweaking the setting of a couple flowers when she felt rather than heard her favorite new friend approach her.

Azriel tipped his chin at the bouquet, “Did you choose those flowers for a reason?”

Elain nodded her head enthusiastically, “Stephanotis for good fortune, Statice flowers for success.”

Azriel nodded in an almost grave way, like he believed her flowers could bring them both in abundance.

Instead of getting to reply, Elain’s hand was grabbed by Mor who told the rest of them, “Sevenda’s is waiting and I’m starving. Hurry up.”

They travelled in their pack through the city, Mor with her arm around Elain’s shoulders. Elain smiled to herself as Mor told you a story of how Cassian had gotten scolded by an older female fae this morning while eating breakfast. She was finally reaching a point where thinking of her past life as a human hurt a little less. Each day the yearning faded, especially with the company of those around her. 

She had just turned to Azriel when she heard the shout of a woman down the bridge from them calling to her child. The young girl was about to fall over the edge of the low railing and into the river below. The girl had pitched forward, but Elain reached her and pulled her back from the ledge. Thrown off by the forward motion, Elain lost her footing and plunged into the Sidra.

Her body hit the water, completely submerged. She was no longer in Velaris, but in a yawning, watery void. Terror swept through her. Elain tried to thrash her way out of the void, to find the lip of the cauldron like she had tried to do months before. She panicked because there was no end to the blackness around her. She was stuck, she was too weak to fight, and her lungs were burning and filling with water.

Two solid arms wrapped around her and her body jerked. The arms were dragging her. And her body stopped fighting.

In the next moment, her body came back to consciousness. A surge of water erupted from her mouth and she heard a groan of relief above her. When the water was emptied from her body, a sob wracked her in its wake. Again and again she convulsed with silent tears. She hated that darkness, the helplessness she felt all those months ago.

Those same two arms snaked around her shaking form, bringing her into the warm body they were attached to. Elain realized it was Azriel as he whispered into her ear, “Shhh, El. The Caldron can’t touch you. Come on, El. Breathe.”

Elain hiccupped into his chest, dragging a long and slow breath into her lungs.

“Come on, again.” Stealing some of his strength, she breathed in again. She felt a hand rubbing down her back and his matching breaths puffed into her wet hair.

Choking out her words, Elain said, “I never learned to swim. I can’t swim.”

She heard the male still rubbing her back say, “We’ll just have to teach you then.”

Elain nodded her head, “Thank you. I’d like to wait for a little while before our first lesson, though.”

She felt him laugh against her, could hear his heart thundering underneath her ear.

“Understandable.”

Elain closed her eyes and against her instincts to curl into herself tighter and cry into Azriel’s chest some more, "I'm not in the cauldron. You saved me. I'm free."

She felt a scared and calloused finger move a strand of wet hair stuck to her face back into position. “Sometimes I have to tell myself the same thing. I surround myself with darkness, but every once in a while it can make me feel like I’m back in that cellar. No light and no hope. But I'm free. In a better place. Surrounded by good people.”

Elain leaned back and stared at Azriel’s face. No she was not the only one that had endured cruelty. She couldn’t help but marvel at his goodness.

Elain looked at him and said, “If you ever need an ear. I will always listen. You listened to me when I most needed it. I’ll always do the same for you.” She felt his hands move to grip her to him. It felt like a _thank you_.

“And I don’t know who hurt you, Az. But I hope they burn in hell.”

Azriel snorted and stared at her incredulously, “Easy, Sunshine.”

Elain kissed his cheek. Her body was still shaking, but now only from the cold.

She stood up, her dress sticking to her body indecently. She caught Azriel staring at her, he cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat, “Now can you dry these clothes, or is that only something Rhys can do?”

From above their place on the bank she could hear Mor’s laughter and Rhys saying something like, _Must I always do everything?_ With a snap from Rhys’ fingers on the bridge, her water-logged body was dry. Reaching forward she grabbed Azriel’s hand and squeezed, leading them both back to their family.


	3. Wingspans

Dinners at the House of Wind slowly became one of Elain’s favorite occurrences. Back when she was human, dinners in their hovel were always meager and somber. When they moved to the estate it was always just she and Nesta. Elain loved her sister, but Nesta wasn’t exactly the best at making conversation. Now, dinners were fun. The conversations were entertaining and kept her enthralled. Elain was mostly quiet; however, she enjoyed occasionally chiming into the banter that whipped across the table. Plus, the food was always delicious.

It was almost as if everyone had assigned seats now that Elain and Nesta had joined the inner circle. Rhys and Feyre always sat across from her, Feyre would sit next to Nesta, Cassian next to Nesta at the head of the table. Opposite Cassian sat Amren, while Mor sat on Cassian’s left. Next to her was Azriel, and always without fail Elain found a spot next to the Shadowsinger.

In the beginning, she had clung to Azriel like a lifeline. She had no control of when the visions would come and being next to him made her feel more grounded. He could always tell when one came over her, and would listen intently. Every time he would ask her questions and help her make sense of it all. She craved the steadiness he gave her.

Now, she just enjoyed his company more than anything or anyone else. They had even gotten to the point where they wordlessly passed food to each other. Elain had never been a fan of tomatoes, but Azriel loved them, so she would pass them onto his plate instead. Azriel would in turn give her any strawberries or blackberries. He didn’t like the seeds getting stuck in his teeth.

Their dinner tonight was trout from the Sidra wrapped in prosciutto with a pistachio pesto, roasted broccoli, steamed brussels sprouts, and potatoes with rosemary. Amren, who was still getting used to being truly Fae, was the only one at the table that had a plate of just lamb chops, still practically bleeding. Amren scowled when anyone suggested that she try to eat some vegetables. Her palate hadn’t quite grown that far yet.

Elain was so full she still had a quarter of her fish and most of the potatoes still left on her plate. Azriel was about to fork the bit of trout off her plate when a red-tinged mist pulled her plate to the other side of the table.

“Very mature, Cassian,” huffed Azriel.

“Well, I didn’t see you ask before you went for her food,” Cassian taunted.

Mor rolled her eyes, “We have a system, Cassian. Azriel gets Elain’s leftovers, you get Nesta’s.”

Cassian cut his eyes to the woman sitting next to him, down at her empty plate, then back at Mor. Pointedly, he dumped Elain’s food onto his plate.

Azriel just shook his head and leaned back in his chair, throwing an arm around the back of Elain’s. This was Elain’s favorite part; when they had all finished, but didn’t want to leave this handsome bubble of post-dinner happiness. Elain tuned out the conversation in her blissful state, focusing only on the presence of those around her.

Elain drew herself back into the conversation when she heard Nesta, who looked at Cassian still stuffing his face, say, “You’re a pig. You’d think that someone who talks about their looks so much would be more concerned with how much went in their mouth.”

Cassian, with food still in his mouth, winking at her he said, “It takes a lot of energy to carry the biggest wingspan, Sweetheart.”

When she heard a collective groan from all the others at the table, Elain’s brow scrunched.

“But Azriel has the biggest wingspan.”

Rhys choked on his wine, Cassian coughed up the food in his mouth, Mor murmured “Oh, Caldron,” all while Amren chuckled delightfully. Nesta looked at her in stunned silence, Feyre was trying not to laugh while smacking Rhys on the back. She turned to look at Azriel in confusion to see his face had gone completely red.

Glancing at her sideways he cleared his throat and winced, “He didn’t literally mean wingspan, Sunshine.”

“Then what did he mean?”

Silence answered her while, Feyre and Mor met eyes. Elain was wondering why it was such a big deal, what horrible faux paus she had committed, when Feyre finally spoke.

“Well, um… Illyrians have this thing about their wingspan size relating to the size of, you know…” stammered Feyre. Mor finished, “…uh, a different body part.”

Elain blanked, having no idea what they were talking about. Why couldn’t they just say that they were referring to. Unless… _Oh._

Elain felt her face heat when she realized _exactly_ what they were talking about. She covered her face with her hands. A self-deprecating laugh bubbled from her and she whispered, “Oh Mother, that’s so embarrassing.”  

She heard Azriel whisper with a smile in his voice, “I’m flattered, El. Really.”

Elain looked at Azriel with a pretend glare, and jabbed him playfully in the side, making him laugh.

She heard Cassian across the table say, “I’d be happy to prove it right now. Interested in finding out who would win, Ness?”

Nesta glared at him, “I’d be surprised if you had anything down there to measure, bat.”

Cassian threw a hand over his heart, feigning pain and looked at Elain with mirthful eyes.

Elain pretended to consider him, then said, “I bet 20 gold marks Az still wins.”

Stunned silence and gaping mouths turned her way, then everyone boomed with laughter.

Rhys’ groaned and leaned over the table, “Oh, innocent Elain, I’m going to be sick.”

Azriel, with his arm still around her chair and a blush still staining his cheeks, chuckled, “Well, who are any of us to argue with a seer?”

The rest of the evening continued in the dining room with cheerful banter, placing bets, and a not-so-friendly competition to see who indeed had the largest wingspan. Elain left with a smile on her face and 50 gold marks richer.


	4. Illyrian Leathers

Elain looked in the mirror, turning this way and that way, prolonging the inevitable. Today was her first day of training. More importantly, today was her first day training in Illyrian leathers. Her reflection was scandalizing. Of course, no one else except Nesta, would think twice about just how mortified she felt in pants. She never wore pants. Ever.

She knew it was necessary for movement in training. She sighed in resignation as she pictured in her mind how ridiculous it would be to train with Azriel in a skirt and petticoat. Luckily, she had gotten accustomed to wearing clothes more suitable for the Night Court, especially with the weather climbing in temperatures lately. This was just another step, she told herself. To live here, she had to learn to dress like she was from here.

Elain headed down to the training grounds by herself. Nesta had knocked on her door earlier, but she couldn’t handle leaving her room yet. Instead, Elain had told her to go on ahead to the training grounds. Nesta had finally broken free of the many issues that had bogged her down after their father passed away; however, the intensity of her interactions with Cassian had basically exploded.

Elain winced to herself. Maybe sending Nesta by herself was a poor decision, because she could hear Nesta and Cassian arguing before she even laid eyes on them. Poor Azriel was probably stuck listening to them scream each other’s heads off for well over half an hour. For Elain, who could so easily get lost in daydreams of visions to come, it was easy to drown them out. She was unaware of any techniques Azriel had, though his self-preservation was so good she couldn’t doubt he his own secrets to handling their constant bickering.

She could finally see Nesta and Cassian circling each other and was glad they were too distracted to see her. But then there was Azriel, standing shirtless, sunning his wings and stretching his arms. If she wasn’t so worried about his reaction to her in the leathers, she could’ve stared at him, sitting there like that, for a very long time.

He was the only person Elain could stomach training with. He never made her feel weak or insignificant. She knew, no matter how terrible she was, he would explain to her what she needed to do without judgement or irritation. Yet, the thought of him seeing her in Illyrian leathers made her stomach drop like she was diving off the highest balcony in the House of Wind.

She drew closer and she saw Azriel turn towards her. She almost bolted back to her room, but she saw him freeze. She could _feel_ his eyes traveling over her body, lingering on her outlined legs. She was paralyzed under his gaze. Instead of panicking, she felt heat flush her skin. She could tell he was appreciating her, and it made her… happy, less self-conscious.

* * *

Azriel had been wondering why Elain was taking so long. He was getting tired of listening to Nesta and Cassian throwing barb after barb at each other. However, he preferred the barbs to the silence that had trailed Nesta all those months after the war. Elain was happier now that her sister was getting better.

He was about to go hunt for Elain, when he caught sight of her walking towards them. And his mind went…blank.

Seeing Elain in Illyrian leathers should have made him focus on the task that they were both there to do. It should have had him thinking of the training routine he had planned. But no, for that split second all he could think about was how strong and incredible she looked.

He could tell she was uncomfortable, but the leathers fit her so perfectly. And her _legs_ , Caldron boil him, he couldn’t look away from them. She was stunning.

Then he heard her sweet voice, “So where do we start?”

Azriel almost had to shake his head to get back to training mode, “Stretch first, then some running. We’ll work on your core and throwing punches after.”

For the next little while, Azriel showed Elain how to stretch her muscles properly, trying to keep touching to a minimum. He couldn’t help lingering with each small touch that helped guide her into correct positions. His hands clenched at his side, keeping them from going back to her once more.  

* * *

 

Every time Azriel’s hands brushed along her arm, side, or leg Elain felt a line of fire beneath her skin. It was lucky the activity was strenuous, because otherwise her rapid change of breathing would have been a cause for concern.

Elain always saw Azriel as an attractive person, not just physically but in all aspects. That attraction had been increasing lately, and it confused her. If she was mated to another, how could she feel this way for another male? But she never felt a connection like this with Lucien. He didn’t know her. Sure, he could feel her through the bond, but he didn’t _really_ know her. He didn’t know her heart or her deepest desires. But Azriel did. Azriel saw right to the core of her. Even now, while they were doing laps, he stayed by her side encouraging her, challenging her in just the right ways to push herself farther.

After their run was finished, they rested, draining their water canteens. Elain could feel sweat beading on her brow while she bent over and panted.

“You. You aren’t even winded,” there was a smile in her voice.

Azriel smirked at her, “Well breathing heavily would blow my cover. I’d be the worst Spymaster in the history of Prythian then, wouldn’t I?”

Elain rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. A raspy chuckle climbed its way out of his mouth. Making Azriel laugh was one of her greatest pleasures. She loved the timber of his voice, especially when that gruff, midnight sound was happy. She could listen to it all day long.

She hadn’t noticed the rest of the inner circle had arrived until Mor was behind her, taking her arm and spinning her out so that she could see her.

“Well, look at you! You’re starting to look like a real lady of the Night Court, now. Ready to kick some ass,” Mor’s voice was light and complimentary. Elain gave her a soft, shy smile, no longer nervous about her new attire. Maybe the Illyria leathers weren't so bad after all. She turned back to Azriel, whose expression had shuttered. It was rare when she couldn't tell what he was thinking. But still, she smiled back at Mor anyways. 

* * *

 

Azriel wasn’t expecting the rest of the inner circle to appear at the training grounds, especially Mor. Azriel was confused. For five hundred years, he had been pining over one woman. Yet, within months of getting to know Elain, five hundred years of feelings were turning in on themselves. The dreams of Mor weren’t gilded any longer, and instead he was starting to see their relationship as what it truly was. To say he felt an inner turmoil would be an understatement. When it came to Mor, he never felt good enough; yet, he was starting to consider that maybe, just maybe it was because they just didn’t fit.

But Elain was so pure. She had a heart of gold and eyes that were so trusting. And she had a mate. Who was he to take that bond from her?

Rhys swooped in, gathering Elain in his arms and ruffling her hair, “Oh, I feel so proud.” Azriel smiled when he heard Elain huff at her now loosened braid as she smacked Rhys in the stomach. He watched Rhys double over in fake pain. Elain was beginning to master the giggle and eye roll combination in response to Rhys’s antics.

He decided to save her from anyone else’s scrutiny, luckily Feyre and Amren were busy distracting Nesta and Cassian from ripping each other apart.

* * *

 

“Alright, Elain and I aren’t done yet. Go bother someone else, you two,” and he dragged her away to the weapons rack. Mor called after them calling him _killjoy_. Azriel bent over to pick something up off the ground. Elain stared at the tattoos and scars scattered over his chest as he stood in front of her. The biggest one was right in the center, where he had the bolt shot through his chest that horrible day in Hybern. She thought back and regretted being too scared and weak to help them. She almost reached out to touch it when he grabbed her hand. She felt his calloused fingers, somehow cool in the almost unbearable heat, skim over her palm and knuckles. She had to keep from inhaling too sharply, when he gently started wrapping cloth around her hands, winding it over and around until only the tips of her first knuckles were showing.

She heard his voice speak, “We’re going to work on your core, and try some punching. You’re going to do twenty-five sit ups, twenty-five push-ups, do a set of five punches and repeat four times.”

She winced at his plan and he smiled down at her. “Best way to start is just to dive it.”

Elain started the rotations of work outs, while Azriel adjusted her stance and posture. It wasn’t hard to imagine she was completely out of her depth, but Azriel was patient. He never made it seem like too big for her to handle. After the second round of throwing punches, she looked him dead in the face.

“At this rate, I think I’ll be able to knock Cassian out in six months.”

And in response, she received one of the best peals of laughter, yet. Smokey and rolling. After he finished laughing, Azriel looked at her like she really could beat him. Like she could beat anyone. As if, in his eyes, she could do anything she wanted. Elain started to believe just maybe she could too.

That night Elain went to bed more sore and tired than she ever had been in her entire life. But her heart and soul had never felt so light.


	5. Peace Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for leaving Kudos and the lovely comments! I'm having a great time writing this story and it makes my heart so warm that y'all seem to enjoy it just as much as I do. Much much much love to all of you! I'm also sorry this chapter hass taken a little longer. I just started a new job and now that I'm working two it's been a bit of an adjustment. I made this one a little longer to try and make up for it. Thanks again everyone and I'm going to do my best to get another chapter out quick! <3

“Elain, you don’t have to come,” Feyre was looking at her like she was about to break.

Elain smiled at her sister, “I want to be there and see this through. I’ve been involved from the beginning and I won’t shrink away from my part in this.”

Of course, she didn’t have to go to the peace negotiations between Fae and Humans. Feyre, Rhys, and Nesta were the only three from the Night Court that were truly needed. Yet, Elain couldn’t shake the feeling that it was crucial she went. And it wasn’t as if she was the only other extra from the Night Court. It was a given that Mor, Cassian, and Azriel would go as well. Even if Amren wasn’t currently vacationing in the Summer Court she doubted she would’ve been accompanying the party.

It was because of Graysen and Lucien, that Feyre was worried for her. The fall out of her engagement with Graysen was… difficult to think about. The future she envisioned with him was a fairy tale. Her hopes had been strangled lifeless by his cold indifference to her and his harsh judgement of not only her, but her loved ones. She hadd let herself fall deep, deep, deep into a pit of nothing. She was numb, and that useless yearning for a life that could never happen had gotten her kidnapped and had put Feyre and Azriel in danger.

Lucien was an entirely different story. The possibilities of a future with Lucien were always present. Yet, even with the bond, that physical link she could feel, there was something missing. Elain couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t that he repulsed her or that he wasn’t a good person. She had grown to know him, and she enjoyed his company. But her body was telling her that the bond was good while her heart and mind weren’t agreeing. She knew Rhys had told her mating bonds were supposed to be for equals. While she was just learning of her abilities and the power she had been given, in mind and in spirit she didn’t think she could give him what he needed. And she didn’t believe he could give her what she needed, either. She would have to do something about it. Something soon.

Elain, however, would not let either of these things intimidate her. She was free and she was strong. It was she who had helped save this world, she who could see the future, and she who had brought the King of Hybern to his knees. Hers would not bend to anyone’s will but her own from now on.

When Feyre continued to stare at her like she was about to fall apart she blurted out, “Where you all go, I’ll go. Who knows, maybe I’ll be of some use in the negotiations. I was human once, too. Now, will you help me find a dress?” Feyre smiled, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. Elain knew she couldn’t convince her sister she would be fine, not until she could show her she was.

Elain still had no idea where any of her clothes came from. She suspected Cerridwen and Nuala. They were a perfect mix of the colors and softness she loved before with the daring cuts and elegance of her new life at the Night Court. Feyre helped her choose a dress of nude chiffon with sleeves ending just above her wrists. It was embroidered with detailed birds and trees in dark blue and bold black and flowers in soft blues, pinks, and yellows. Her hair was left loose and free, save the small portion Nesta had braided earlier and pinned in a small crown a top her head. Feyre approved, dressed in her own gown of glittering blue black and a crown of sparkling diamonds in the form of stars and moons.

They descended the stairs to the first floor. Rhys was the first she saw. His eyes glued only to his High Lady, his love. Elain could only feel happiness warm her body when she saw such love for her sister. Love she deserved and had fought for. No words were exchanged and she knew they were having a conversation the rest of them couldn’t hear. Feeling like a voyeur she moved her attention to the others.

Like always, Azriel was the first she sought out. His face was unreadable while his shadows swirled furiously. His eyes trailed her while she walked towards him, settling by his side. She let her eyes trail him right back. He was dressed in his Illyrian leathers as usual, with Truthteller ever present at his side. His hair just brushing his collar, his eyes blazing more gold than hazel.

As she reached his side, she teased, “Why did I have to wear something so nice while you get to go in standard attire?”

He smiled knowingly. It wasn't a secret from anyone that Elain loved to wear pretty dresses.

He looked down at her and smiled, “You look,” she blushed when his eyes roamed over her again, “… very beautiful, Elain.”

Just as she was about to say thank you, Rhys called to Azriel, who was to arrive first. Even in times of peace, Azriel had explained to her once, it was still necessary to take precautions. She felt his hand settle once the small of her back, before he started moving away from her. Quickly, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, a silent reminder to be careful. She had gotten into the habit of doing so when she knew he was leaving for a mission. He smiled at her over his shoulder before he vanished into shadows.

Not even a minute later, Rhys pulled Elain into his side with Feyre on his other. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was stepping onto her family’s estate in the human realm. She felt Rhys give her shoulder a quick squeeze and stepped out from his side, letting her sister and her mate to be the first to walk into the meeting. Mor followed closely behind. She took in the replica of her their old mansion before her. She felt Azriel sidle up to her side. Without looking, she knew his arm was out and ready, so she took it.

It was decided that the Archeron property would be the meeting location of all further negotiations between the Fae and the Humans. Nesta had seen to the rebuilding of the home. She and Cassian had worked tirelessly to restore the marbled black and white floors, the hearths, the walls. As they entered the house her eyes soaked in the mural of Prythian that Feyre had painted on the wall. They had converted from the dining room into a larger area to accommodate meetings such as these. It was the first time she’d seen the building finished.

Only now it didn’t quite feel like home anymore. It didn’t hold the same weight in her heart it once did. Instead of making her sad, it made her yearn for the townhouse, the open gardens, and the salty breeze wafting from the Sidra.

Around the large, round table constructed in the middle sat Kallias, Vivian, and Thesan. Apparently, it was habit for them to always be the early arrivals. When the other lords and their entourage started to enter the room one after another, doubt started to creep into her mind. Maybe coming wasn’t such a good idea. What good could she really provide for this meeting? She hadn’t realized that she had been gripping Azriel’s arm so hard until his other hand smoothed over hers clutching onto his arm bracer. She felt Azriel lean toward her and whisper, “You belong here, if not more than most the people in this room, El. Don’t let them intimidate you.” Slowly the tension started to leave her shoulders. When she looked up at his face, his hazel eyes were filled with certainty and his shadows only a wisp around his ear, she drew the confidence he shared with her into her soul. She wondered if that was what he always told himself when he was forced to be around the Illyrian camps as Azriel pulled a chair out for her next to Nesta.

In the door way, she saw a familiar flash of red hair and the russet gold eye of Lucien. A lot had happened since he found out he was Helion's son. He had left to learn what he could of his unknown talents. Apparently curse breaking was in his blood as well as fire. And instead of coming back to the Night Court, he left for Vassa’s court. He had told Feyre before he left that he owed it to her to try and help free her from her curse. He looked good. And happy. He inclined his head toward her, giving a soft smile, which she returned.

Even though she was starting to embrace her life as High Fae, there were still members of the Prythian Courts that she would avoid given the chance. All of whom were currently in this room. Tamlin, and any male from the Autumn Court made her wary, until she had the mind to remember the male standing directly behind her, not to mention any of the members of the Night Court were there with her. And even she could hold her own in a sparring match. She wasn’t as good as the rest of them yet, but she had time. She knew she was improving.

When the humans arrived, she found it wasn’t entirely too difficult to see Graysen among them, dressed in a full suit of armor like he was going to war instead of a peace talk. Elain had never been one for displays of disapproval, yet she had the extreme urge to roll her eyes. She looked back at Azriel and saw him smirking, like he knew she thought the extreme measures Graysen and his father took weren’t only ridiculous, but showed a blatant lack of effort to put forward into trusting the Fae. He didn’t even look at any of them. Peace talks, indeed.

Graysen appeared different than when we last saw him at the end of the Battle against the King of Hybern. That warm spark she remembered in his eyes wasn’t there. She tried to see him as a man she once loved and found it difficult. It had been weeks since she had taken off the ring he had given her. She had tossed it in a drawer, not quite sure what to do with it. She certainly wasn't giving it back to him.

She felt rather than heard Azriel moving closer to the back of her chair. The eyes of her sisters were trained on her and she smiled at them both. She was okay. With her family surrounding her, she could only be okay.

The meeting started by speaking of the threat of not only the human kingdoms on the continent, but of the Fae kingdoms across the sea. The death of the King of Hybern had left his kingdom open for siege. Azriel had spoken quietly in the meeting with the inner circle of their movement. They were getting ready for something big. Most likely, they were going to attempt to take Hybern. The only thing separating these kingdoms from Hybern was Prythian. And Prythian needed a chance to stand on solid ground if they were to oppose what was coming.

The next discussion was on the topic of the human refugees that were still staying in the Courts. Would they stay if they wished? Would they be forced out of the kingdoms that they had been staying in for months, only to go back to a desolated village they once called home? Surprisingly, Tamlin was the first to announce his borders would be open for the humans to cross into and live. Of course, the Summer and the Night Court were also willing to open their borders.

The trouble came when the issue of progress of reconstruction in the Human Realm.

Nesta, being the emissary from the Night Court to the human realm, was justified in asking just how much progress had been made.

Sir Nolan was not forthcoming. Instead he sneered, “Why do you want to know? If you deem us weak, will you take our land as well?”

Nesta didn’t even react, but the air in the room buzzed Elain saw a flicker of red and turned to see Cassian’s hand tighten on the back of Nesta’s chair.

Straightening her back and lifting her chin. Elain lifted her voice, trying to placate him, “She was only asking because we can help. There are plenty of people, Human and Fae, willing to be put to work. More hands are better than less. Working together can only be a positive thing for us all, especially with what the future holds.”

Feyre, sitting on her opposite side reached down and squeezed her knee. Elain couldn’t tell if it was in approval or pity. Because the next words that were spoken to her weren’t nice. They were vicious.

It wasn’t Lord Nolan who said them, but Graysen.

“How are you going to do that? Sleep with and promise yourself to a male from every Court and Realm in Prythian? You’ve a good start with a Lord’s son as a mate and a male from the Night Court.”

To her credit, Elain knew her face was just as pleasant as before the comment. Even though it was embarrassing and humiliating, she kept her head high. She didn’t cower like she would have previously. In the next second, she heard Lucien growl from across the table, then she felt utter darkness leaking into the air around the room. Enormous pressure built. She didn’t have to turn around to know Azriel’s eyes were blazing gold and his syphons were shining boldly. Even as the room darkened, Elain didn’t feel uncomfortable or scared. No, as the blood drained from Graysen and his father’s faces, she only felt the shadows support and give her strength. Quietly, dangerously Azriel said, “Speak to her like that again and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out and nail it to the table.”

Those words were so at odd with anything she’d ever heard him say. Azriel had always been kind and steadfast, she’d rarely seen him lose his temper. This version of him was terrifying, but not to her. It made her stomach flutter, not drop with fear. The wooden chair behind her groaned under the pressure of his tightening hands. She was always comfortable in his darkness and to show him she reached her hand back and touched his leg. The muscles of his thigh clenched and stretched out under her fingers. Then, in the next heartbeat his shadows receded. The room was clear again and the pressure had subsided. Azriel’s fingers interlaced with her own, his fingertips felt icy where hers felt warm and the heat from her hand quickly transferred to his.

Graysen voice quaked, “You can’t do that. There’s a treaty that protects anyone in this room.”

Instead of responding, Azriel’s gaze locked onto Graysen across the table. She heard a throat clear and pulled her head toward the man standing in the corner behind Vassa. Jurian scowled at Graysen, “Boy, he doesn’t give a shit about the treaty. Frankly none of us do. I certainly wouldn’t stop him.”

Lucien’s smile had turned wicked, “He’ll take your tongue, but I’ll find something else to take from you.” Elain hoped he was saying that out of fondness and not because he felt he had to.

Her hand was no longer holding Azriel’s but wisps of his shadows lingered, intertwined with her fingers. Elain softly spoke, keeping her voice from shaking, “The war may be over for now, but there are still people hurting, who need to restore their lives. The quickest way to getting Prythian to prosper is restoration, and the quickest way to restore is to help one another. One doesn’t have to see the future to know the outcome if we don’t come to each other’s aid.”

An elderly human lord, who she did not recognize, nodded his head, “My people could very well use the help of the famous Archeron sisters. We would be in your debt.”

Smiling softly, Elain inclined her head to the lord, as did Nesta and Feyre. The Night Court may be the farthest from the human realm, but Elain knew that no effort would be spared on their part to restore Prythian again. And just so, two more lords accepted the invitation to share in the restoration. Kallias, Tarquin, Rhysand, and even Tamlin had all agreed to the exchanging help with human lords. Thesan and Helion didn’t have much damage so the exchange wasn’t necessary on their parts. Elain figured Beron didn’t agree based on principal of needing to be difficult.

When all topics were exhausted at the end of the meeting, few things were truly solved. Yet, there was progress in some areas. Centuries of mistrust and prejudices cannot be undone in a day. But Elain had hope for what was to come for Prythian. Even in the face of possible danger, they could all bring real peace to their world.

When the meeting was over, Elain walked out of the room arm and arm with Feyre. Sometimes it was strange to imagine that she was older than her sister. Feyre had always been an old soul. Elain had certainly never acted like it she was older. But now they had time to mend what had been strained between all three of them. She felt Rhys’ long arm drape around them both and settle over her head.

“Well done, Elain,” he told her. She saw Feyre’s lips tip up in a smirk. In the next second Rhys took her arm and spun her away and into Azriel’s side standing off to the right. Her hands landed on his chest and his hands came up to hold her elbows.

Azriel spoke quietly so that only she could hear, “It a good thing you’re naturally graceful.”

“I know, isn’t it?” Most people would have guessed she was just responding, but she knew Azriel could hear the dry sass in the voice of her response. He was the only one who could recognize it.

“And very humble,” he nodded to her solemnly, yet his eyes twinkled with humor.

And then standing in the foyer of her old home she saw it.

The vision came so abruptly, she froze. She was lying on a chaise in the garden, but she wasn’t alone. Tan and toned arms were wrapped around her waist. Those arms could have belonged to many people. But not those hands. They were scarred and they were beautiful, holding her tightly against the body attached to them. Large wings were shading her from the midday sun. His voice whispered into her hair, “Go back to sleep, Sunshine. I’ve got you.” In the vision, she turned to stare into the eyes of the male laying behind her.

Instead she found herself in the present moment, with the same man. And Elain wasn’t scared. She had known for some time what her heart yearned for. _Who_ it yearned for. But it wasn’t the right time. Not when she hadn’t talked to Lucien. And certainly, not when she didn’t know if his feelings were the same as hers yet.

Azriel eyes darted to and fro between hers, “A vision?”

She could only breathe, “Yes.”

Azriel’s gaze turned inquisitive, “Is it something I should know?”

“No, not yet.”

His face softened and he nodded. She loved that he trusted her. She knew her visions could provide a useful boon to the Spymaster of the Night Court, but she knew he asked because he also cared. He knew what it was like to hear voices, to see strange things that weren’t there.

She must have been staring at him in a weird way because he quirked an eyebrow at her, “What’s wrong with my face?’

Elain laughed, and patted his cheek, “Absolutely nothing. It’s perfectly handsome. Rhys has a contender for best looking.

Of in the distance, _I heard that,_ was shouted by their most illustrious High Lord.

Chuckling he extended his arm to her, yet again. Ever chivalrous.

There were many things needed to be done. Many important discussions needed to be had. Not today, but soon.

Elain clasped his arm between her hands as they disappeared.


	6. The Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this up! I hope you guys like it!

It had been a month since Elain started training with Azriel. Azriel, who made it a point not to underestimate her, was surprised by how quickly her training had progressed. Like both her sisters, she was a fast learner. It made Azriel wonder if the three Archerons were all destined to be Made as fae. And like Feyre and Nesta, there was fire inside her soul that he could see blazing from within. Each of the Archeron sisters had a different feel about them. Elain’s was like the fire of a hearth: warm, strong, and controlled.

Her physical abilities were quickly building and recently they had started to work her seer abilities into her fighting. To make it even more difficult, he had made her start training with everyone else as well. Although he wanted to keep their training sessions between the two of them out of selfishness, he knew it would be a disservice to keep her from learning other fighting styles. Even if it he was not the one fighting her he was always on the sidelines watching. He loved seeing her own the movements of her body. Her spirit shown so brightly through her confidence and focus.

Today is the first time they had sparred in a week, and like always, it was so easy to soak in her bright spirit.

Elain stopped their light sparring with a huff and put her hands on her slender hips. Today she’d been getting more frustrated than usual. Seeing movements still happened in only happened occasionally. It was more than he expected for her to learn at this stage. She found it frustrating, which he found endearing.

“I’m taking a break,” she walked off toward the bench Amren and Mor were seated with water. He watched her walk off. Elain never flaunted her gracefulness and it always enraptured him. Stopping his mind from entering a dangerous territory, like envisioning his hands wrapped around the legs walking away from him, he forced his eyes away. And, Mother’s tits, Feyre was staring right at him with a smirk on her face. There were times he was grateful for how perceptive she was. This was not one of them.

Feyre laughed and looked towards Rhys, “Feel like running?”

Azriel rolled his eyes at the immediate, “Why yes, Feyre Darling,” that followed.

No one really believed they went running. They were probably just looking for a spot to have a different kind of workout in mind. He groaned and shook his head.

He crossed the training grounds to Elain, who had plopped herself on the bench watching Nesta and Cassian share equal time sparring and arguing. He lowered until he balanced on his heels in front of her. His hands twitched to grab the knees in front of him, but he kept them still and focused on her face.

“Do you know how many trees Feyre hits when she flies still?”

Her lip twitched and he _almost_ had that smile back that he couldn’t get enough of. She shook her head at him in answer.

“A lot. She still hits a lot of trees,” he didn’t only receive a smile, but the sound of her quiet giggle.

“I know you’re rushing yourself, but you aren’t going to pick something new up right away. You’ve already come farther than even I was expecting at this point. Don’t ever be discouraged in your abilities. Just keep pushing them. When it seems like your stalled, sometimes moving on to something else can bring more clarity to the block on another ability.”

His eyes trailed her throat as it bobbed, “So, I may not ever really be able to control seeing in battle?”

“Oh, no I definitely think you can. But we can work on other ways to make you stronger, too,” Azriel stood and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet.

Just when she had reached her feet, Elain tensed. A far-off look crossed her eyes. On instinct, he catalogued their surroundings. Besides the argument between Cassian and Nesta growing louder by the second, he couldn’t feel anything threatening in their vicinity. It only lasted for a second. Elain came to almost instantly and she shoved him. Azriel saw a blast of blue flame blow right behind Elain in the spot he had just been standing.

Her body slammed into his. He whipped his head in the direction the attack had come. Cassian and Nesta were standing agape looking in their direction. He tracked their gaze to the charred spot where the blast he knew Nesta had created made its landing. His gut screamed and he furiously ran his hands over Elain’s head and shoulders, stopping when he found a patch of raw skin and heard Elain gasp into his chest. He looked over her shoulder and found angry red skin glaring back at him. A section of her hair had been charred right above it. He felt his body grow icy.

He gathered her hair in his hands and gently pulled it away from the wound. Securing it with a band he found on her wrist. Almost too gently, his hands held her face.

“Go into the house, I’ll be right behind you. I’ll send for the healer.”

He could tell she was in pain when she nodded her head and made her way back into the house. Once he knew she was inside he turned to Cassian and Nesta. Nesta’s face was vacant of color. He almost felt bad for her. Azriel stalked toward them both.

And then, he threw a fist in Cassian’s face.

He looked at them both, “Sort your shit out. Both of you.”

He looked at Nesta, pointing a finger in her direction, “Control you damned powers and emotions. Start actually training instead of throwing childish tantrums when you don’t like what he tells you.”

 Walking off he yelled back over his shoulder, “Send for a healer.”

It didn’t take long to find Elain inside the house. He stared at her while she tried to place a washcloth over the burn on her shoulder.

Before she could cause more damage, he said, “Hold on. You need to take your shirt off first.”

Elain startled at the sound of his voice.

“You have to remove it when the healer gets here, anyways.”

She studied his eyes and slowly nodded her head.

“Okay, will you help me?” She didn’t look unsure, just resigned.

“I won’t look, El. I promise.”

A soft laugh sounded, followed by, “I don’t care. I trust you.”

Azriel felt his chest constrict with something a lot like hope at her admission. He’d come to adore the way she would look at him with complete faith and understanding. Before his mind could come up with a response the door to the bathroom opened and the healer and Feyre were standing outside the door.

 She slowly turned her back toward him. Air hissed out of his lungs at the sight of her shoulder. He had the sudden urge to run his lips over her shoulder. And he did not want to stop until he reached her lips. But he would never cross that line with her. Not yet, when so much of her future was in the air.

The burn was in a precarious position. He knew if she pulled her arms over her head herself the skin would rip itself. He gripped the bottom of her top and ripped it along the seam running down her back.

Like they had a mind of their own, his finger ran down the length of her spine. He didn’t need to touch her skin to peel the leather off her body, but he could not help but feel appreciation for the way for skin pebbled in the wake of his finger, or the imperceptible shiver her shoulders gave.

Before he could help her peel the shirt from her shoulders, both Feyre and the healer arrived in the bedroom. Azriel left it to Feyre to help Elain remove the shirt and quickly left the room adjoining bathroom with Feyre on his heels.

It was not long before the healer emerged. It felt like an eternity with Feyre smirking at him from her perch on a chair in the study, Azriel avoided her the best he could by finding an extra tunic laying around the house. After finding one he re-entered the room to find Feyre talking to her sister, Elain still clutching a towel to her body. Few people would be able to tell Feyre was upset, her tell was the slight pull of her eyebrows.

As he walked closer with the shirt in his hand, Feyre squeezed Elain’s hand and then walked out, patting his shoulder. Azriel’s cocked his eyebrow, staring at Elain.

“Is that shirt for me?” Azriel nodded at her question. His eyes tracked over her shoulders and her face. It donned on him that her hair was still uneven from the blast.

“Do you need some help cutting your hair?”

Elain’s face mouth gaped, “What happened to my hair?”

Azriel winced, “Some of it got burned off. I can cut it for you if you want.”

He heard Elain groan and gave a quick laugh, “It’s not bad. Just a small section. Come on.”

With a sigh, Elain turned to go back into the bathroom. Azriel sucked in his breathe. On Elain’s shoulder was a patch of skin was still red and razed, like the healer had not even been there.

It matched the skin of his hands.

Azriel could feel an icy rage building. He did not blame Nesta, not really. But her beautiful skin being scared permanently like his created a visceral response in his body. He warred between wanting to tear the room apart and needing to gather her in his arms and hold onto her. Elain must have sensed his shadows leaking into the corners because she turned back to him then. When she saw where his gaze had been directed, her face softened.

“Az, I’m alright. Nesta’s powers… they aren’t like any seen before. The healer had some difficulties with figuring out how to treat the burn. I’m not in any pain,” her voice was strong, she gazed at his steadily, “Can you come fix my hair? Please?”

Azriel knew speaking would give away the rock that had lodged in his throat and settled for a firm nod and moved toward her. However, he knew attempting to hide the emotions that rose like waves in his eyes was impossible. He was sure she could read the sadness, the need to in some way give her comfort when he looked in her eyes. He was astounded when he saw those same emotions when she was the one who had been hurt. Shaking his head in disbelief at the woman in front of him, he started searching the drawers for a straight razor. Finding one, he grabbed it, absentmindedly twirling it around his fingers. Elain’s lips twitched into an almost smile at it.           

“Have you cut hair before?” Her fingers were still following the movement of the razor.

The corner of Azriel’s lips turned up, “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve cut Cassian and Rhys’s hair over the centuries.”

Elain looked at him and studied his face, “Who cut your hair?”

“You think I’d trust either one of them to cut my hair?”

Azriel heard her giggle chime through, “I can’t blame you.”

He smiled at the happy tone of her voice, “I need to wash your hair before I cut it.” Taking out the chair from beneath the vanity he positioned it in front of the sink and pointed to it. Elain sat gently in the chair and leaned back with her head over the sink. Azriel slid between Elain’s and leaned over her. He knew it was unnecessary to gently slide his leg along hers, just like it was unnecessary for her hand to glance off his thigh. Somehow, the unnecessary things seemed the most necessary when it came to being near Elain.

Azriel turned the water on, using his hand to wet Elain’s hair. She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh and it almost killed him. He was sure being able to touch her like this felt almost as good. As her golden hair grew dark a memory surfaced in his brain.

“The first person who ever cut my hair was Rhys’s mother.” At his admission, Elain’s eyes popped open.

“After I was brought to the camp, Cassian and Rhys had brought me back to the cabin. She had this way of calming everything around her. When she spoke, you listened to her. The first thing she did was tell Rhys to show me where the bathroom was to get cleaned up. After I was finished and dressed she sat me down, grabbed a straight razor and cut and cut and cut. Afterwards she cleaned all the hair off his face and said, ‘Now there’s a handsome boy if I’ve ever seen one,’” he smiled slightly, grabbing the soap to wash Elain’s hair, “she reminded me so much of my mother.”

Elain smiled at him, “She must have meant a lot to you.”

“She did. She was the first person to show kindness to a lonely and hurting boy.” His hands massaged the soap into her scalp, feeling satisfied when he heard Elain hum.

When her eyes opened, they turned wistful, “Nesta would cut mine. I know you all thought we were both useless sisters to Feyre, but at least Nesta did that.”

Azriel stilled, and locked eyes with the woman in his hands, “El, the past is just that. You aren’t who you were. And now, you’re one of the strongest people I know, Sunshine.” Elain’s face warmed, both her hands raised and encircled his wrists. Her thumbs caressed the scars just below his palm, while Azriel’s thumbs slowly stroked Elain’s temples. Azriel shivered at the intimate touch. He was finding it more and more difficult to not use the hands in her hair to draw her face toward his own. He was becoming addicted to the small touches between them. Even though he had finished washing her hair, he found it hard to move away from her.

Abruptly, he shut the sink off. Taking a towel, he got most of the water out of her hair. Elain hands grabbed a hold of his arms and he helped hoist her out of the chair. Azriel spun the chair around.

“Alright, sit.”

Obeying him, she tucked her hands under her legs and sat straight in the chair. To keep hair from touching the would on her shoulder, Azriel took the towel and draped it around her shoulders. Silently, he went to work, evening her hair until it reached just below her shoulders.

When he was finished, she got up from the chair and looked in the mirror. Her reflection looked back at him with uncertainty.

Before he could check his self-control, he approached her back. Both his hands met the vanity on either side of her body. Bending slightly, he gently grazed a kiss just above the top of the burn, and meeting her reflection said, “Beautiful.”

Recognition dawned in her eyes, and the sweetest flush crept into her cheeks.

He caught movement in the doorway of the bathroom. Apparently, they missed the entrance of Nesta and Cassian into the room.

While Nesta looked shocked by the position Azriel and Elain were in, Cassian looked as if he were about to say something that would make Azriel plant his fist in his face for the second time. Azriel sent a cold stare to Cassian, daring him to open his Caldron-damned. The male must have received the unspoken message because his smile disappeared and he kept his mouth shut. Nesta’s face was wracked with guilt when they settle upon her sister.

Before Nesta could open her mouth, Elain walked up and wrapped the arm with the uninjured shoulder around her sister and said, “Ready for dinner?”

As he watched the two sisters whisper to one another, Azriel fell for her just a little more, like he had been for days, weeks, and months.

He watched Elain pull away from Nesta and say, “Go on we’ll be right behind you.”

Just when they had turned out the door, Elain stepped towards him. He was not expecting to have her arms wrap so tightly around him he felt some of the cracks in his soul mend together. Like she was a human balm for unseen scars of all kinds. In turn, his arms would around her just as tightly.

“I owe you a haircut,” she said.

Azriel smiled into her hair, “As long as you use Cassian as a practice subject first.”

He felt her warm breath fan over his chest as she laughed from deep within herself. Her pinky wrapped around his as she led them toward the door. Smiling mischievously, she said, “I’m sure I can guilt him into agreeing.”

In that moment, staring at her joyful face, he would do anything to always bring that joy back.


	7. Assassination: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris calls in his debt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's been WAY too long since I last updated. And I don't really have a good reason except I been seriously lacking in the creativity department, lately. Working at a job I don't particularly care for has been really draining and it's been so hard to do anything but consume other peoples work. Putting out some creativity has been REALLY hard. I've been working on this one since Thanksgiving and I'm still not sure if I got it right. But I'd rather give you all something and let you give me some advice on where you think this should go or any advice on getting my creative juices flowing again. Thank you so much for all the kind love and support, y'all are amazing!

The inner circle had been waiting for this moment to come ever since they made that wretched deal with Eris. Elain had become privy to it in the many meetings she attended since the war. She hadn’t expected it to come this swiftly, fae were immortal, she expected them to have immortal patience when it came to everything. 

Apparently, that was not the case when it came to assassinating a High Lord.

She was scared. She knew how dangerous it would be to take Beron’s life. She wasn’t ready to give up her happy home, the joy she found in doing mundane things with those that surrounded her. She wasn’t ready for this kind of danger, not so soon after it had just ended. She yearned for that peaceful life they had come to know in the last months.

She wasn’t the only creature of peace. Feyre could paint whenever she wanted. Amren could go see the sports games she loved so much. Mor could take them all for a girl’s night on the town. And Nesta couldn’t stop reading everything she got her hands on. Cassian enjoyed not sending his soldiers to war. Rhys loved to see his people safe and happy. Of everyone she thought Azriel was the only one not quite comfortable with peace, trying to see the trick in the quietness. 

That quiet was abruptly destroyed in a span of a few hours. He had arrived requesting only the presence of Rhys and Azriel for their conversation.

Rhys’ expression was severe. His jaw was clenched and his eyes flashed toward Feyre. Again, with the silent conversations. Sometimes it even annoyed her.

Rhys turned Eris toward the direction of the staircase exiting the House of Wind.

Azriel crossed over to the rest of them, stopping just beside Elain. He answered their unasked questions with, “I leave tonight.”

The only noise was Cassian swearing softly.

Everyone planned to go back to the townhouse for the night. The concern was a tangible cloud looming over the group, especially the High Lord. For all of Rhys’ success at cultivated a mask for those surrounding him. Those closest would always be able to see the true face of the embodiment of their leader.

Rhys appeared white knuckling Feyre’s tunic. Her sister’s hand settled onto the chest of her mate, her eyebrows furrowed. 

It was Feyre that spoke, “We should all head back to the townhouse.” 

Rhys wrapped his arms around Feyre and Mor, taking off the balcony first. Just as Cassian was taking off with Amren and Nesta, Elain felt Azriel’s hand land on the small of her back. Without a word, she turned into his arms and looped her arms around his neck. His corded arms encircled her legs and her waist. The movements were as natural as a hand reaching to brush hair out of an eye or biting a lip in concentration. 

This time, however, was different. Elain’s face buried itself a little bit deeper into the crook of Azriel’s neck and shoulder. His arms held her a little bit tighter to his body. No words were spoken, but there was a looming need to be closer. 

They landed just outside the front door. Elain loosened her arms; but when she felt Azriel’s embrace turn steely, she tightened them again. She would have been slightly surprised if she did not also feel the same need to anchor herself to the male in her arms. Azriel was her ground. He was the soil she relished to have her hands on. He kept her steady and in the present. 

It was not until they reached the sitting room that he slowly dropped her to the floor. She and Amren were the only two to take a seat while the plans were being discussed.

How would Azriel enter the Fire Court? Mostly winnowing and Eris.  
How would he reach the Beron? Shadows and Eris.  
What was his escape plan? Again, Eris.

Too much of this plan relied on Eris. Elain knew little of him. All she knew was from Mor’s disquieted countenance and the twisting of shadows around Azriel’s shoulders. But Beron was the oldest High Lord. He was the most brutal High Lord. And they had been trapped into an impossible situation. No one was comfortable with the plan that had been developed. But, it was Azriel who was the only one capable completing this quickly and quietly, without starting another war before they had recovered from the last.

What was the timeframe? Four days.

Elain took the disquiet in her bones as a normal response against the dangerous situation they were in. It was easy to forget just how quickly someone so powerful can be felled by just a knife named Truthteller. 

When the Shadowsinger had left to get his leathers and weapons squared away and concealed Elain stepped into the garden. 

Her raging heart could not find peace in the blooms that surrounded her or the glowing lights of the setting sun. The flickering of the torches lighting themselves made the shadows of the vines appear like talons. To anyone else, the shadows looked to be reaching toward her, not menacingly but almost comfortingly. Which is exactly what Azriel witnessed as he walked toward her, her back to him. 

Without even looking back Elain knew he was behind her. She turned to look at him, for a second she could only stare. His face could paralyze her sometimes. She lingered on the jaw cute like a sharp sword, the lips that were shaped to make hers want to part, and the endless depth of his eyes. She brought a hand to his bicep; partly to make sure he was really there, but also to steady herself from how quickly he could wreck her heart.

Yet, her eyes never left his. 

He looked at her like he was discovering the light for the first time. When he leaned forward, she matched him. Her forehead touched his. His nose skimmed hers.  
He breathed onto her lips, so close Elain could swear she felt a ghosting of his top lip. Then his nose was sliding up to her hairline, that perfect mouth pressing a kiss into her crown, stealing her thoughts and voice with it. Her hand slid down his arm to connect with his. His wings unfurled, with hot desperation she gripped his hand tightly, he gripped it right back.

“Keep the torches lit,” and with a gust of wind he was gone.

Elain’s hand gripped her chest, she thought it would break through her chest. It was not until she saw heard a throat clearing that she broke out of her trance. Rhys was leaning an arm against the door jam, his normally smirking face was pulled tight. With his other arm he gestured her closer, looping an arm around her neck. She felt so small. He led her back into the house that felt empty with the presence of the man that just left her standing in the garden minutes before.


	8. Assassination: Part 2

_The floors were scolded and steaked with soot. The ornate room was filled with golden candelabras and rich fall colors saturated by the fire burning. There was shouting and cries of pain. Where were they coming from? The beautiful hand was dripping blood against the floor like a frozen water fall dripping water droplets in a pond._

    Visions never came more than once. Elain, in her garden kneeling under the hydrangea bush, gasped herself awake. She threw the trowel out of her hand like the metal had scolded her, falling back from her knees.  
   

    It had been three days since the Azriel had flown off on for a forced assassination with a man not one of them had trusted. Elain ran into the townhouse and straight into a large, solid wall of chest. Warm hands reached up to grip her arms her fingers curled into the leather. Cassian's smile faded, and his brow furrowed.  
   

    "Elain, what happened? Are you okay?" Elain vaguely noticed Amren dropping the large tome in her lap onto floor from where she was draped on the couch.  
   

    "Something will go wrong. He's by himself and something will go wrong."  
   

    Cassian's hands tightened on her arms. His tone sharpened, not from anger but from fear, "Did you see him? What happened?"  
   

    "Everything was on fire. His hands, Cassian. There was blood dripping from his hands. He didn't have any shadows, there was too much fire. He wasn't supposed to be in the throne room, he wasn't supposed to be inside the estate at all."  
   

    Eris was supposed to lure Beron out of the castle, they were supposed to have a hunt. However, Beron was to be the prey. Why did he not make it outside? How could the plan have been changed so drastically?  
   

    By the time she had finished talking, the golden face staring down at her paled. He dropped her arms and left the room at a quickened pace. Elain's breathing turned shallow and the scene repeated, and repeated, and repeated.  
   

    There was no time, she knew in her mind the vision had come only minutes before the scene in her mind was occurring. Elain's mind warped with fury. The damned Cauldron had sent it to her too late. Angry tears gathered in her eyes. What good were her visions if there was no time to stop what was happening. The more Elain had tried to master her visions, it seemed the less time she had to until they became reality.  
   

    And no matter how powerful any of them were, they were no match for time itself.  
   

    The worst form of torture was knowing someone she loved could die, and nothing she could do could stop it. And yes, Elain loved him. As her chest constricted and her lungs heaved, she knew it deep in her bones. It had not been immediate, but throughout the months she had spent in the shadow of Azriel's care, tenderness, and support her heart had become his to care for.  
   

    Elain's knees grew weak and she crumpled against the wall. In the moments to come Elain's gaze ticked to those gathered around her. Cassian grabbed the nearest object and flung it across the room. Feyre flinched at the sound. Nesta's angular face sharpened. Amren swore. Mor's trembling hands circled on her temples. Rhys became stone.  
   

    Elain voice quivered, she caught the eyes of her younger sister, " _Please_ , Feyre."  
   

    Feyre inclined her head. Her mate's face grew grim as she turned to Cassian, "Let's go get our damsel in distress, then."  
   

    Cassian head tilted back, "Can't wait to tell him that one."  
   

    Elain's choked sob broke from her body. Cassian passed behind Nesta, a hand cupping her hip, "Try not to pine for me too hard, sweetheart."  
   

    "In your dreams, Brute."  
   

    "Too late. You're already there, Ness."  
   

    Feyre and Rhys separated from a lingering kiss. Feyre's hand slid to Cassian's shoulder. And they were gone.  
   

    It was Nesta who slid down the wall next to her. Despite her initial aversion to training, Nesta quite loved the Illyrian leathers, and had come to appreciate the pants and tunic look that Feyre often favored. Elain looked down at her own outfit. She wore pants and the tunic Azriel had given her, when she had been burned in training. A shirt she knew belonged to him.  
   

    Nesta's arm wrapped around Elain's shaking knees.  
   

    "I hate these powers, Nesta. I hate them so much."  
   

    Nesta said nothing in return, only squeezing her a little bit harder. The sister who understood what happened to her more than anyone, did not give her words of comfort, which was oddly comforting itself.  
   

    Elain watched as Rhys cleaned the broken glass on the floor. He could've done it with magic, but she suspected he wanted to occupy himself more than anything. At some point, Amren had gone to fetch the healer. Just in case, she had said. Mor had ended up on the floor beside Elain. She felt the females long finger grab her hand, petting it. Rhys sat across from them all, his back against the side of the couch, his arms draped over his knees.  
   

    None of them talked, there was only this horrible limbo. And of course, the cauldron was silent, when she wanted to know now more than ever what the future held. That the vision she had of those beautiful wings and strong arms wrapped around her had not been a trick all those weeks ago. Elain ran the images in her head, yet again. Picking apart each second, each image that her mind had captured. Amren had returned with Madja, who had asked to see the garden. _Not all wounds should be healed by magic_ , Elain had heard her say once. Amren led her to see the plants Elain had tended to. Elain had slowly been adding medicinal plants, she found she quite enjoyed learning their uses.  
   

    Meanwhile, the sun faded. It felt like time was moving all at once too slowly and too quickly. Why had the vision not come to her before he left? Why could she not see this future to tell Eris to go to Hell and Azriel to stay.

    Next thing she knew, Rhys' rumbling voice sounded from directly across her, "Elain, no matter what happens, these powers are the only way we had of knowing anything. You may hate them, the knowledge of what is to come can be cruel to the bearer, but you were built for the burden the cauldron gave you," his head nodded toward her sister, "Just as Nesta was built for hers."  
   

    Nesta cleared her throat, "How could you possibly know what it is like to carry death? To carry hellfire?"  
   

    Rhys smirked, "You forget I am Death Incarnate, dear sister."  
   

    "Misting isn't the same as what I can do."  
   

    "No, it is not. But the end result is the same. These powers are the embodiment of who you are."  
   

    "Am I just destruction and devastation?"  
   

    Rhys looked fixedly into her eyes, "Yes, but who's to say that destruction cannot breathe new life, that devastation cannot also save? It has never been about the nature of your power, Nesta. It's about what and who you use that power to protect."  
   

    Elain felt Nesta stiffen, caught off guard by the words Rhysand had said. Nesta's mouth opened, maybe to say something scathing in response to her uncomfortableness, yet instead several deep thuds sounded from the door. A door slammed open, and Elain was on her feet. They all were. Cassian entered first, dragging someone at his side. Dragging _Azriel_ , whose eyes were closed, his golden face pale. There was so much blood, at first glance you wouldn't be able to tell where it came from. At second glance, a deep cut to his brow gaped, raw skin was exposed from his side, another cut to his shoulder, another to his thigh.  
   

    Her legs and hands moved by themselves, wanting to staunch the flow from somewhere. Anywhere.  
   

    No one stopped her from running to prop his other side up.  
   

    Madja from in front of her said, "The kitchen table, quickly."  
   

    Elain didn't feel his weight, suddenly the large male in her arms was light as a feather for all she knew. They laid him on the table as gently as they could for how swiftly they moved. As soon as the table weight was under him, Madja went to work, untying laces or ripping were the leathers were already torn.  
Elain stepped back, fists clenching and unclenching. She jumped at the arm wrapping around her shoulder following the limb to Mor's face.  
   

    "Come on, she works best with less company."  
   

    Elain stopped in her tracks when she found Lucien and Feyre staring at her, both looking ragged, with their own fair share of blood on their outfits. She had not even seen them come in. Honestly, she had not cared.  
   

    Rhys inclined his head to the male in front of him, "Lucien, thanks are in order it would seem. Again."  
   

    "It not something I'd like to make a habit of," was his only reply. Elain knew the reply was not annoyance at being party to a rescue, rather he did not want there to be a rescue at all. Images flashed in her mind of a letter signed by Eris, fighting fire with fire, supporting Azriel just before winnowing.

    Lucien saved him. Elain felt her heart turn on end. She may not love the man that the Mother and Caldron would have be her mate, but she felt an overwhelming since of warmth for the male. Lucien was cunning, quick, but he had a heart that burned to do right. For that alone she wasn't so ashamed that this male was in some way her equal. She was flattered and grateful.  
   

    Lucien held her gaze for a split second before a serene if subdued smile crossed his face, and she knew that he knew. He knew that even if they were mates, that their futures did not belong with one another, not when looked at the male laying on the kitchen table like that. She let herself feel a kernel of guilt and sadness for the future they could have had. Yet, she knew they would both be thankful in the end. She could feel the same warmth from him towards her, not in words like Rhysand and Feyre, but in general errant thought.  
   

    She spoke what she felt most in her heart, putting all the feeling into the two words, "Thank you."  
   

    In return, his two words were just as simple, with just as much feeling, "You're welcome."  
   

    In the following time, they learned of the plans demise. For as smart as Eris was, he had not considered the fact his father had planned contingency for when one of his own bloodthirsty children would carry out an assassination attempt. Eris, who had managed to send word to Lucien of his plan, had been captured and thrown in prison by his brothers.  
Azriel not only killed Beron and two of his half-brothers, but freed Eris from the dungeon as well. Lucien, who arrived somewhere in the middle of battle, had killed the other one. Only Azriel, according to Lucien could explain what had happened in between Eris' imprisonment and Lucien's arrival.  
   

    Why did he not just leave to try the attempt another time? She could throttle him, at the same time as never let him go.  
   

    Madja had finished her work. Most of him was healed, only the burn would need more care, but would not scar. She had instructed Cassian to carry Azriel to a bedroom.  
   

    It was Feyre who said, "Put him in Elain's room." Elain flushed, Rhysand gave his mate a side long glance as if to reprimand her. Of course, she was completely unapologetic.  
   

    Nesta quietly murmured to her, "Don't forget to sleep in between your incessant worry over him."  
   

    After depositing Azriel on the bed, Cassian laid a hand on Elain, gently rubbing his thumb where her arm met her shoulder.  
   

    "If you need anything let me know, I'll be downstairs." In reply, Elain gave him a quick grateful smile.  
   

    Grabbing the chair that accompanied the writing desk, she slid it all the way up to the bed, where she could be closest to him. Her eyes rolled over his face, still pale but gaining color, and his chest, beautiful and breathing. She couldn't help her eyes from memorizing every arch, dip, swell, and line. He was here, he was safe. Her hand moved up his arm and down, her eyes grew wet, yet again. His face looked at ease, peaceful even. At some point, there had to be peace outside of sleep, even for him. With his hand in hers and her head next to his hip she dozed.  
   

    Elain woke to a hand on her face, stroking along her brow moving to her jaw. She nuzzled into the slightly cool palm. It was the quiet chuckle that made her eyes blink open rapidly to see Azriel's barely there smile.  
   

    Her chest cracked with relief, and a whimper escaped her mouth. She scrambled to throw her arms around him, pulled even closer by his own. By the steady thud underneath her ears, her head landed somewhere on his chest. She was proud the sob that had reappeared had not broken out, but tears still silently felt from her face while her shoulders shook.  
   

    She felt his nose in her hair and his chest rumbled when he said, "You got blood on my shirt."  
   

    Unable to look at his face, she didn't stop herself from saying, "No, you got blood on your shirt."  
   

    She heard him suck on his teeth, "Semantics, Sunshine."  
   

    His arms rubbed along the top of her back. She gave a short laugh, followed by a sniff. Clutching him tighter, she said, "I saw you in that room."  
   

    Putting together the equation he noted, "That's why Feyre and Cassian came."

    Her position was becoming uncomfortable half on Azriel, half off the bed. Suddenly she became incredibly aware and a little embarrassed at her actions and moved back to sitting on the chair. He let her, but his hand grasped onto her forearm and slid down to fit her hand in his.  
   

    "Why didn't you leave, Azriel?"  
     

    It seemed like hours before he finally breathed out and said, "Partly because I didn't want this hanging over everyone's future any longer. Partly because it needed to happen, even if the plan was ruined Beron and his sons needed to be dealt with. Eris and Lucien are the only two even capable of not being evil. Eris will make a better High Lord," his eyes turned slightly softer, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles, "I did it because if I had the slightest chance of making this world safer for you, for everyone in this house, I will always carry through."  
   

    How could she fault him for something any of them would do? "I still want to be at least a little bit angry with you and you're making it very difficult."  
   

    His return smile was catastrophic to the rhythm of her heart. Even though her heart rivaled a humming bird's, Elain's mouth dragged out a yawn, drained from the day, the fear of losing the male she was gripping so tightly in her hand.  
   

    "It isn't morning yet and that chair can't be comfortable."  
   

    She shook her head, "No, you need to rest more comfortably than I do."  
   

    He glanced at the ceiling for an instant, his neck and ears flushed, "If you don't mind sharing with me, I-" his throat clearing, "Can I just hold you? Just until morning?"  
   

    Elain felt like a second passed by like an hour until she moved to invade the space next to him. Like it had happened a thousand times before, they slid against each other, fitting like a key into its matched lock. Her hand on his heart, his hand spread along her lower back.  
   

    She felt him relax against her. Maybe he needed to know just like she did that he was home, that he was safe.  
   

    His lips found her forehead, not like the graze that could have been missed if not paid attention too. This one was unmistakable, desperate, deliberate. In response she stretched her neck, just as unmistakably planting the kisses partner to the underside of his jaw. Too tired to think about how his breathe had hitched her eyes drifted closed.  
   

    She had almost missed the whispered, "Goodnight, Sunshine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know in the actual books Lucien would probably not be so cavalier about her choosing not to be his mate, but  
> hey this is fan fiction and a little bit of wishful thinking is due. <3 Also, timeline? I tried.


	9. The Flight

Azriel hadn't been to the townhouse in days. He had been fulfilling his duty as spymaster by doing recon across the continent, which was proving to be a thorn in his side. A very large, very annoying thorn. 

As it turns out, Eris was a competent leader in his own right. Who knew. After the disaster of an assassination on Beron Azriel was surprised. 

He was glad to finally be home. He had spent the past few hours discussing with Rhys about the status of their most recent problems, which they decided to revisit in the morning with fresh eyes when they weren't so drained.

As they walked through the house, Rhys cursed from his side, "Any sign of Bryaxis?"

Azriel made a soft noise in the back of his throat. "You sure you want that thing back in the library? He's been taking care of our remaining Naga problem on the Southern Border."

Rhys shivered, "Feyre and I will figure something out."

Azriel smirked, "Maybe another bargain would help. I hear Feyre has a free leg for another tattoo."

Rhys laughed easily. Something he'd done more of lately. Hearing that laugh made Azriel happier, it meant Rhys was healing. They all were. He was almost to the door when he sensed the movement. He could feel her moving through the shadows of the house, coming down the stairs. Her familiar presence hit him square in the chest. Being away made him painfully aware just how much he needed her. He missed her. It made the days away seem to stretch on forever. As his attention focused on her, he noticed something was off- she didn't feel like her usual self. 

He stopped in his tracks, and turned at the sound of her soft footsteps. Rhys turned back from the doorway next to him. 

Elain's face was drawn tight, she seemed fragile and small. Those honey-colored eyes were dulled and cold. Until she looked up and met his. The lines of her face changed. The line between her brows smoothed out and those eyes that told him everything warmed fast, like a tea kettle on a stove.

"You're back," she breathed out. 

He watched her lithe body come off the stairs and walk toward him, "I just got in."

Elain looked him over, "Are you tired?" There was clearly a reason for this question. Yes, he was exhausted, but it was a mental exhaustion; physically, he could go days without sleep if he wanted. 

"No, I'm not tired," he watched as she gathered courage for the next words and waited patiently for her to say them.

"Can you fly me somewhere?" 

He considered Elain in her long nightgown and thick robe, "Do you want to change first?"

An invisible weight lifted off Elain's shoulders. She shook her head while tying the sash of her nightgown to keep it closed. 

He reached his hand out and took Elain's, leading her out the open door behind him. "Where would you like to go?"

She looked at him and gulped. Her voice, with conviction said, "Anywhere."

From the doorway he heard, "Bring her back without a cold, Azriel." He'd forgotten Rhys was even standing there. Rhys had taken on the role of big brother, which made sense because Elain was the embodiment of what Rhys' little sister could have been. What she should have grown up to be.

Azriel looked at Rhys, standing in the doorway, "I'll keep her safe, High Lord." Rhys snorted at him, waved them off and shut the door. 

His wings snapped out from his body and he tugged her forward gently into his arms. She smelled like wildflowers and tea leaves, quirky and intoxicating. He took her arms and looped them around his neck, bent down and wrapped an arm around her knees and her back. Quietly he whispered close to her ear, "Hold tight."

Elain's arms closed in around his neck until her head was pressed next to his, her delicately pointed ear tickling his own. His muscles shifted and pulled as he took off.

Elain's surprised squeal was muffled when she pressed her face into his shoulder. He felt her press even tighter against him and his dark laugh rasped out. Over the next minute, she relaxed into his arms. They had flown together often, but she reacted like each time was her first. And he loved that. He was glad she was going to get to experience flying without the threat of capture and death lurking behind them like at Hybern's camp. Hoping that she would come to love it on her own. 

"Choose where you want me to fly, Elain." He would always give her a choice in something, even if it was small. So many of her choices had been taken from her. He didn't know what had put those dark spots behind her eyes, but maybe giving her a choice would scatter them, even for just a little while.

Elain finally brought her head up from his shoulder and looked below them over the city of Velaris and its sparkling lights. Those same sparkling lights reflected in her eyes as she marveled at the city. She turned her gaze on him, keeping that wondrous expression on her face. Her eyes skittered between his, and a small grin crossed her face, "Just fly me over the city. It's beautiful from up here."

Nodding his head, Azriel replied, "Your wish is my command."

Elain hummed quietly, "I've never commanded anyone to do anything before." Azriel shook his head and smiled, imagining the slight person in his arms marching around the townhouse ordering the inhabitants around with a dazzling smile on her face.

"You should start with Cassian, but make sure I'm in the room. I want to see his face when you do." Her body shook with silent laughter. He took it as a good sign. 

"This is better," Elain's voice was light and breathy.

"I didn't always know what it felt like, I didn't learn until well past the age I was supposed to," his voice had gotten gruff. From the look on her face he knew Elain was thinking of his past. One day, in the garden, he had told her about it. About the Illyrians. Being open with Elain had broken that wall she tried to keep between herself and the other's around her. She feared her visions and he could see they were eating her alive. He got her to talk about that fear by bringing some of his own pain forth from the shadows. 

"Maybe, I can learn to accept what I've done," she spoke almost as if she didn't mean to out loud. "I can still feel his blood, the way Truthteller felt in his throat," her voice turned shaky. "I know it saved Nesta and Cassian. But I feel like he stole a piece of my soul with his last breath. I wanted him to die, to pay. And that scares me more than anything. I don't regret it for a second, but I don't know how to get rid of that fear I'm turning into a monster."

Of course, it would be someone like Elain, who helped give life to new things and brought forth beauty from just a small seed, who would have an aversion to having a hand in the death of even the evilest of creatures. To Azriel, it made her that much stronger to act against what she was naturally inclined to do. It made her valuable and precious in a world that needs more life and beauty. 

Azriel was quiet for a few minutes before deciding what to say, how to give her any kind of peace. He decided to tell her what he always told himself when he felt that monster grow in his heart. "Elain, you have a good heart. Your intentions are good. That's what you tell yourself. Not that you're a monster, but you had to do what was hardest to keep your family safe. I think what you did was one of the bravest things I've ever seen." Because he had seen it. The shadows had shown him. 

He felt her forehead against his neck, "Thank you, Az. For everything." He knew she wasn't only talking about the flight. It was everything, seeing her when no one else did, giving her agency when everyone thought she was crazy. This woman in his arms made him feel stronger than he ever had in his existence. In that moment, he realized there was so much more he wanted to do for her. 

He turned his head and smoothed his lips over her forehead and said, "Anytime, El," and he meant it. He'd fly with her in his arms any night if it meant she could find peace. And he would tell her everyday just how vital, how good, how important she was.

He felt Elain fall asleep in his arms. But he wasn't ready to lose the precious weight in his arms. Not yet.

When he landed on the front steps on the townhouse, the door opened to Nesta. Looking down at her sleeping sister in his arms, she moved out of the way. She followed him up the stairs and into Elain's room. 

Nesta moved the blankets on Elain's bed and Azriel laid her down on the mattress. Her arms were still around his neck, he ran his hands up until they reached her wrists and gently pulled them away from his neck. 

Nesta eyes bore into his skin as she pulled the blankets up and over Elain. He felt her stare as he watched Elain move to a more comfortable position in her sleep. Just one more moment he told himself. He could care less what Nesta saw. He didn't want to leave this peace. But he did.

As he reached the top of the stairs when he heard, "When are you going to tell her?" Nesta's voice was a honed blade. A challenge.

"When I know it won't be another choice taken away from her," Azriel stared at Nesta until he saw her nod her head. 

"I'll lock up on my way out," he felt Nesta in the hall and descended the stairs.


	10. The Interruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update!!! I want you all to know your kudos and likes mean so much to me. Honestly, the affirmation I get from you all makes me want to weep sometimes. I am really trying my hardest to accurately portray these characters. I know sometimes I fall short but I genuinely want to do them justice because Sarah makes some of the best characters I've ever had the pleasure of encountering. Much, much, much love to you all for all the support!

The House of Wind had become somewhat of a project for Elain since she had been training for longer hours. Still dressed in her training leathers with well-worn tunic pulled over it, she held a potted moonflower lovingly in her arms as she moved toward the balcony. Rhys had dropped her off with the flower just a moment ago, tugging one of the two braids parting her hair on his way off.

  
She had decided to drop off the flower before meeting Cassian and Nesta for a grueling training session. Cass throwing innuendos and Nesta acting like she was unaffected for four hours was exceptionally low on her list of activities she was interested in today. Thus, the brief respite with plants before the coming storm.

  
She had made it her mission to fill the house with various foliage. Not that it needed to be any more perfect than it already was, but she felt the urge to put in her own personal touch, a reminder of how much she appreciated each and every person to frequent the residence. Each of them had saved her and given her a reason to look forward to this new immortal life to be lived.

  
This particular balcony she knew well. If only because Azriel tended to favor this balcony for his returns from missions. A moonflower would be good, one that bloomed in the night when he returns. She hoped he saw it as a welcome home even when she was not present to welcome him herself.

  
She could feel the presence of them before she rounded the entrance, readying her face with a smile at the company she turned the corner.

  
Her breathe hitched when she took in the almost intimate position she had caught her present company huddled in. Mor’s hands were placed simultaneously on both Azriel’s face and his forearm. While his hands, his beautiful gnarled hands, clasped both her elbows. Their whispers were low and intent, the barest smirk spread across his lips.

  
When both of them turned to face her, Elain could feel her face blanch and her smile shake. Their expressions were what she would perceive as taken aback when they separated from each other. She wished her heart would not squeeze so hard in her chest, or the pit of her stomach had not leaden so quickly. Recounting moments of Feyre's under the breath remarks and glances between her new family surfaced in her mind. Of course, she had seen moments between the two in front of her but always assumed it was of a type of love between two friends with centuries of history. Not between two people in love.

  
It was Mor that spoke first, bounding toward Elain in a graceful way only Mor could, “Hello, Darling! Oh, what did you bring for the house today?”

  
Even though her heart stung she straightened her smile and her shoulders, “It’s a moonflower. I figured it would look best where the moonlight could reach it first. I had no idea you two were out here or I would have waited. Sorry for intruding,” realizing almost too late she looked as though she were skulking in the shadows.

  
A worrisome expression flashed in Mor’s face; Elain still had yet to look at Azriel, even as she felt a small whispery breath against her ear tell her to look at him. Truth was she was scared to see what his face said. She was even more worried she would see nothing on his face at all. Her movements were unnatural as she set the moonflower off to the side of balcony’s entrance.

  
From behind her she could hear his cool, raspy voice, “You aren’t, El."

  
Her heart jerked inside her chest. She was going to embarrass herself more if she stayed.

  
Saving face and making a quick exit was all she could do at this point.

  
Her eyes came back to Mor, just Mor, “Well I should head to find Cassian and Nesta,” Mor’s eyebrow raised at that. No one wanted to find Cassian and Nesta. Lately, as they had been working out the kinks in their whatever-it-was-they-were-doing, they were all giving the couple a wide berth. But they felt safer now than this situation.

  
Still, she avoided looking at the male, whose gaze she could feel burning her skin, before she gave into that same voice that was almost desperate this time. _Look at him. Look at his face_.

She practically sprinted to the training grounds to avoid doing just that.

  
Nesta smiling at Cassian almost made her freeze. Cassian took two fingers and tapped them between Nesta’s eyes who playfully slapped them away.

  
Cassian caught her eyes first, “There you are. I thought I would have to find Az to see if you were glued to his side again.”

  
At the mention of Azriel she tried with all her effort not freeze. Judging by the narrowed eyes from Nesta and Cassian’s furrowed brow it was unsuccessful.

  
“Nope, just had to find a place for a new plant.”

  
Cassian’s gaze slid to Nesta, who side-eyed him in return. Elain rolled her eyes at the both of them. Before Cassian could give her a directive on what she should start on, Elain made her way to the makeshift body double made of cloth and stuffing. Her hands were shaking, before she could make them stop her sister grabbed the wrappings and started working on her hands. When she had tightened the last of it, Nesta held her hands until Elain met her stare. Though Elain’s defiant streak rarely came to life, now she could feel it leaking through her skin. Nesta must have decided not to push her because all she said was, “we’ll talk after dinner,” and returned to the area were Cassian had two blunted swords at the ready.

  
She left her hands fly in escalated sequences. Fifty sets of one-twos, one hundred sets of one-two-threes. On and on. Over and over. She let her mind wander, not fully aware of what she was doing but relying on muscle memory.

  
Again, she had overestimated someone’s feeling for her, and how could she not blame herself.

  
Had she read too much into the comfortable quietness she and Azriel had when they were alone? Did he still think of her as the selfish sister he had first seen at their family’s manor so long ago? As the useless, heartbroken girl who had gotten captured by her own stupidity? She was not that same girl and would never be again. She grew nauseous to think about all the times she had given him a lingering look or kiss on the cheek. She had slept next to him not even a month earlier. She had been terrified she would lose him physically that night. She had never considered losing him emotionally could be almost as devastating.

  
Maybe her heart had deceivingly fallen in love with how he had taken to helping her adjust to life as a fae. Not even a heartbeat later a resounding no answered her. No, she had not loved him at first. But over the months by his side, learning about him, studying him, being his friend, she had discovered that she had truly known no one as fiercely loyal and as good as he was. He was at once one of the most dangerous males in history and her safest place. This love for Azriel was not based on superficial looks and needs like the false love she had with Graysen. It was built on a foundation of implicit trust. Even back when she was human she was drawn to his quiet ability to put her at ease.

  
But if the encounter she had witness was any indication, Mor was the one that held his heart. Mor, who had treated Elain with such fondness and care, deserved to be loved. Mor had told Elain about her past. And if Azriel had chosen to love Mor, she would not hold it against either of them.

  
Maybe she was to be alone. Let it make her into a stronger person. No one else knew that she had already rejected the bond with Lucien. She had not even told Nesta or Feyre. She thought back to the night, both of them sitting in the garden at the townhouse after he had helped Azriel. He could never know her heart. And she could never know his. She still felt that bond tug at her ribs every now and then, a gentle reminder than Lucien still cared. She found herself tugging back when he crossed her mind, another reminder to stay safe on his journeys. He still had much to learn from Helion, having vowed to be the one to break to curse on Vassa himself. Yes, he would find someone.

  
She had found her someone, but he already had another. And she would have to live with that. Maybe for eternity.

  
“…ain… Elain… Elain!”

  
Scarred, calloused hands grabbed at hers, breaking her out of her trance. The blue syphons attached to said hands were faintly gleaming. Blood was beginning to seep from the knuckles of her hands, Elain stared at it as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She had not even felt the skin break, even now that she had noticed it she still could not feel anything as she flexed her hands. Quickly and efficiently her hands were unwrapped. She wanted to stroke the fingers that held hers, but those fingers did not belong to her, no matter how much she wanted them to. Instead she stood there with her hands limp.

  
“What happened? Look what you did to your hands. Let me fix them. Please?” she had never heard him speak so quickly, like she might run away before he finished speaking. 

She wanted to look up so badly, but she kept a fixed gaze on those siphons. 

“Look at me, Elain. Please. Just look at me,” looking at him seemed dangerous to her. Like it might crack her wide open. A hand under her chin lifted it up, up, up until their eyes met. His looked to be somewhere residing between worried and panicked.

Truth was walking away was impossible and it was slowly killing her. She needed to move away from this closeness, she could not breathe with his hands on her face.

Her hands went to his chest, trying to put even the slightest distance between them. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you have to.”

Her eyes shot open wide when she felt his hands lock around her neck keeping her from moving away.

  
His eyes were too intense, anyone else would think it was anger, “I do not have to take care of you. I want to. I will always want to.”

  
Elain shook her head almost violently, trying to throw off the words before they settled into her chest giving her hope, “You cannot say things like that to me. Not when you have Mor.”

  
Why was he giving her his confused face?

  
He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

  
“If you and Mor are together, you should be with her right now not trying to help me. I know you might still see me as fragile because of how I was when we first met, but I am not that person anymore, Azriel. I need to learn to no-“

  
His hand was on her mouth. At least she had cut him off before he even started to speak, cutting her off in the middle of a sentence was more than a little frustrating especially when it was something this important. His face moved from alarmed to soft. His hand slid away from her mouth and back around her neck.

  
“There is a conversation that needs to be had. That has needed to be had for a long time, I think. I would suggest we move to another location to have it since I’d rather not have Cassian and Nesta glaring at me from across the training yard. But first, I am not nor, have I ever been with Mor.”

  
Hope and confusion were warring inside of her. Her mind had not yet caught up with Azriel, yet. The slight smirk on his face was indication he was aware she had yet to catch up. His arms drew her close and she did not stop him.

  
“Wrap your arms around my neck.” And she did.

  
However, she was not expecting him to take off immediately without even putting his arms underneath her knees. Her initial panic made her throw a leg over each side of his hips. She knew she was clutching onto him for dear life, and underneath her sudden embarrassment she knew if he had not wanted this exact reaction his hands would not be drawing her closer even still. She was thankful Rhys, yes Rhys, had braided her hair this morning or it would be damned awful to untangle later.

  
Their flight to the townhouse was silent, much like most their flights were, but it was different. She felt too much. Clutching him, her face pressed next to his, her legs wrapped around him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, this way. His wings had always mesmerized her, but this way she studied the shifting in his broad shoulders that carried them. She knew it was inappropriate to touch wings without asking, but she found herself wondering how they felt.

  
He landed in the garden. Of course, he took her to the garden.

  
When she made a move to loosen her grip on him, he held fast. She was grateful for it. She had never felt another person this close before, it thrilled and terrified her. His hands were ever slowly inching themselves down her thighs stopping just before they got to her rear. Her breathing was out of control, while Azriel remained perfectly calm. She felt his amusement. She hoped he was proud of himself, she could not even glare at him.

  
He reached the garden’s bench and lowered her onto the wood. She kept herself from sighing in disappointment when his arms fell away from her.

  
“I am going to get something for these,” he tugged her hands closer to his face. Cool wisps of shadow traced her fingers and replaced themselves with the shadowsinger’s lips while they traveled up her arm and curled around her shoulder and ear. When she looked back up from the shadows he was walking into the townhouse.

  
His shadows were playful with her. They had been for a while. Surprisingly, she never noticed them interacting so much with the others. She could feel the shadows move behind and around her neck and jaw, rest there, then move back down to encircle her upper arm almost like a cuff.

  
Azriel strode back to her. He reminded her of a large cat, the way he prowled. He was almost too graceful and silent for how big he was. Sleek came to her mind when she looked at him. Sleek, Dark, and Silent. Getting overwhelmed by him was still easy after all this time. Would there ever be a time when she would not be?

  
Instead of crouching in front of her, he straddled the bench. Her legs were pulled to the side and draped over each of his legs so that she was face to face with him. Certain that her face was the color of the roses behind Azriel’s back she ducked her head to focus on their hands. His hands cleaned hers and rubbed salve gently over the wounds. It was while he started wrapping her knuckles that he started to speak.

  
“I have never been with Mor, but I did have feelings for her for a long, long time. You know what she went through all those centuries ago, they started before even then,” she wondered if he was pausing to test her reaction. Her stomach wanted to heave itself at his words. Her hands must have stiffened because he rubbed her palm after he had finished wrapping the first one.

  
“I had feelings for her, but I never believed I was good enough. For hundreds of years I kept my mouth shut about it. I was angry and hurt. But I watched her take lovers, and I had my own,” he said unapologetically. Elain knew he had lovers. It would be absurd for someone who had lived for centuries to not have them, “But in all those years, the only thing I felt in regard to my feelings for Mor was pain. I know now my feelings caused her pain, as well. Mor, Cassian and I danced an uncomfortable dance for centuries because I clung to my feelings for her, Mor was afraid to hurt me, and Cassian was stuck in the middle trying to navigate and be a buffer for us both.”

  
His face was stark and open to her, “Mor and I hurt each other, and we hurt Cassian.”

  
His second wrapping job finished, he settled for holding her hands firmly in his, she turned hers around to hold his back. “My romantic feelings for Mor did not make me a better person. I know you understand what that is like.”

  
Elain thought about how bitter Graysen had become toward her after she had been Made.

  
Azriel lip curled up a little at the corner, “Although to be fair, Graysen might just be a prick.”

  
A watery giggle broke left her mouth with a smile. She saw his eyes lock onto it, “There she is.”

  
Elain cleared her throat, he watched her, waiting for her to speak, “Do you still have those feelings for her?”

  
Eyes always intent on hers, “I’ve reconciled that no, I no longer have those feelings for Mor. And what you saw this morning,” Elain felt her cheeks flush again, “was a conversation of forgiveness. I asked for her forgiveness. And she asked for mine in return. When I saw you standing there, I froze. I was concerned you had heard what I had just told her, before I could come to you and tell you myself.”

  
Scared to hear the answer as she was, Elain asked the question anyways, “And what is it you wanted to tell me?”

  
“That I love you. I think I have for a while now.”

  
He said it so casually, like it would not break open her world and put it back together more beautifully than she could have ever imagined.

  
She knew she was crying and did not try to stop it. He wiped the tears away, while he continued talking, “I wanted to give you time to come to me at first, to know it was your choice to love me. It might be selfish of me, but I need to tell you. You need to know sleeping with you in my arms that night was the happiest I have ever felt. I want you to know I could spend the rest of eternity waiting for you if that is what you need.”

  
Elain’s hands grappled for the front of his leathers, pulling herself up into his lap fully. And this time her lips met his. His lips were cool and a relief to her own that were burning. Their lips separate and just as quickly came back together again, this time almost wild. Her hands tugging at him needing him closer. She sighed, and he growled. His tongue received entrance to her mouth freely. Hers seeking his in return. She felt like he was stealing her soul and replacing it with his own.

  
She separated their lips; she may be immortal, but she still needed to breathe. He was staring at her eyes almost glazed like he could not believe what just happened.

  
“I love you, Az,” at that his gaze cleared and touch hers.

  
“You could see me, when no one else could. I feel stronger because of you. A mate bond could not even keep me from loving you,” maybe she should have told everyone about her rejecting that same bond.

  
“I told Lucien I would not accept the mating bond with him. We both decided rejecting the bond was the right thing to do.”

  
His face did not register surprise at the fact, “Sometimes, I think the shadows are just as attracted to you as I am.” They had told him, is what he did not say. It felt nice to be favored by his shadows.

  
“Kiss me, again,” was all she said. He kissed her like she was indestructible. And she loved it. Her instincts were screaming to take and give. Her body pushed insistently against him. Finding him hardened against her stomach only made her more desperate. It was Azriel who stopped them this time.

  
His throat cleared, “As much as I want to make you scream on this bench, I think it’d be better to wait until we can find somewhere all our lovely friends will be unable to witness it.”  
Elain buried her face in his neck and groaned, earning her a raspy chuckle.

  
“Your sister has been watching us for last twenty minutes at least.”

  
“Oh, Mother Tits,” she might die from embarrassment, “Want to skip dinner tonight?”

  
Azriel’s laugh was full and burned a path to her heart, “I can think of something I would much rather eat.”

  
She knew she should be scandalized, yet a firm, “Please,” is what she answered stroking a finger along the ridge of his wing causing him to shiver.

  
His answering smile was wicked and gorgeous. Without another word he stood with her still clinging to him and took off into the blue canopy over Velaris.


	11. The Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... this is the first time I've ever even attempted smut. I apologize in advance. And thank you to everyone for the beautiful, sweet, and incredibly encouraging comments I've received. Y'all are my lifeblood and MAKE MY DAY.

Very few people had been privileged to see the small home that Azriel had purchased recently just outside the city limits. It often reminded her of the cottage that she and her sisters had lived in with their father. She would never admit to Nesta or Feyre that at times she did miss that small space, with her smallest of gardens and Feyre’s paintings on almost every surface you could touch.

  
Elain could always sense that Azriel, though he loved his friends, was a bit of a loner at heart. His need for the quiet and the secluded places versus the warm chaos of the circle won him over on occasion.This small cottage was just that, but never too far away from a quick trip to the House of Wind or the townhouse.

  
If his landing was anything but silent, she could not tell. All her senses were directed only on him. It could have been 2 seconds or 2 hours, by the time they reached the front door. This one moment in her life had entered into an infinite loop. For being such a cool and dark presence, Azriel’s eyes had never looked so warm. His hands were firm against her back, one of them only leaving her body to open what she assumed was the door.

  
Elain inched her face closer to his, her mind struggling between wanting to fall into another kiss or drink him in with her eyes for another hour. As if he could hear her thoughts, Azriel mouth curled to the side slowly and then touched her lips with his own. The kiss was slow and so soft. It was not until her back hit the bed that their lips broke apart.

  
Azriel was the one who spoke first, “I hate to break the enchantment, but this conversation is necessary.”

  
Elain remained silent, a grin on her face, willing for him to continue. She wanted no questions unanswered between them.

  
“I want to be sure, before this goes anywhere further that you completely and totally want this. I sincerely hope you do not feel any pressure from me. I can just as happily lay here and stare at your face for the rest of the day and all night.”

  
Her hands found their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. She twirled her fingers in their softness. He had recently cut his hair. She gently scratched the hair underneath shorn to his scalp. The hair, longer on top, almost tickling her face from his proximity. Faintly, she could feel his shiver above him when she reached a spot just below his ear.

  
Calmly and assuredly Elain responded, “Then be completely and totally sure. I want you. In every way you will let me have you,” shadows were curling around her arms, “Are you sure, Az?”

  
Those shadows, so much lighter compared to when she had first seen them all those months ago, stroke shrouded them in a canopy of quiet darkness as he hurriedly whispered Absolutely across her lips before his took them.

  
With one arm he moved her further up the bed. While her hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, his found her thighs. They traded one piece of clothing for another.  
If he had wanted to take everything slower, she made it impossible. Her legs wrapped around him and tugged. He sunk between her legs and sighed into her mouth like he had come home. Then he started moving and she forgot how to breathe. His mouth dragged from her mouth, down her chin, stopping at her neck. Her skin tingled in all the places his hands, large and callused, were roaming. Nothing she could have imagined compared to what it felt like to so completely consumed by this male.

  
In that moment, with his wings spread over them, and every piece of him next to every piece of her she still could not help but think she could never be close enough. She was fulfilled and yearning for more and more and more. And when she broke against him and he fell apart over her, she could feel her soul intertwining with his like the ivy vines running along the side of the cottage.

  
His head buried in her hair, while they both tried to catch their breath. When he lifted his head to gaze into her eyes she murmured, “again,” Because how could only once be enough when it came to Azriel?

* * *

 

When the sun had set, they were both still in bed, entangled. Elain was pressed against his side, her nose hidden in the juncture of his neck.

  
Quietly, like the moment was too private even when they were the only ones in the cottage, Azriel said, “Every night. I want you like this every night.”

  
Elain could only hum in response, too comfortable to speak, until her stomach growled. She heard Azriel snort a chuckle.

  
With as serious a face as she could muster, Elain said, “Before I commit to anything long-term, you have to feed me.”

  
Azriel winced, “Then, this would be a bad time to tell you that I should have gone to the market.”

  
“Az, if you’re suggesting we go back to the townhouse or the House of Wind, I would rather starve.”

  
“Not my first choice either, Sunshine. Especially, because Nesta might try to castrate me.”

  
“Don’t worry. If she tries, I’ll just threaten to castrate Cassian.”

  
He felt a huff of laughter across her neck where his head had fallen, “Or we could just get Sevenda’s and everyone’s favorite appendages can be safe.”

  
Her answering smile was dazzling, “I would like that very much.”

 

* * *

  
The walk to Sevenda’s was long, but it was enjoyable. They had the luxury to be leisurely in their pace, finding happiness in each other’s company. To Elain’s delights, Azriel was the one who reached for her hand while they walked through the city. Also, to her surprise it was not Azriel that was glowering at people as they walked down the street. She may have growled at a female or two who eyed the handsome Fae next to her a little too much for her liking.

  
When they reached Sevenda’s they carried themselves to the bar, letting the barmaid know exactly what they wanted.

  
Elain was draining the last dregs of Azriel’s mug of ale after they had finished eating when she almost spewed the contents in her mouth over the bar. It was impossible to miss Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, and Amren walk into Severenda’s. Azriel quickly tapped his hand on her back when he had started choking from the shock.

  
Having recovered, she said, “Cauldron, Az. They’re here. They’re coming towards us.” She should have known this would happen. Hiding was useless. The shadows hovering between them both were obvious and Azriel was not exactly small.

  
Azriel slightly bowed his head, “Of course they are.”

  
Rhys and Cassian had infuriated smirks on their faces, while Feyre looked like she was giddy and Amren looked like she had just found her next victim. Amren’s hand shot out smacking Cassian in the chest, her hand out. Rolling his eyes, Cassian produced coins, dropping them in her hand.

  
It was Cassian that spoke, throwing an arm over Elain’s shoulders, “Azriel, I must ask you. What are your intentions with our dear, sweet, little Fawn?”

  
With a deadpan expression Azriel looked at his brother and said, “To take her back to my place, where we will avoid you all for the foreseeable future.”

  
Feyre shoved Cassian aside, replacing Cassian’s arms with her own. The worst part, she did not even speak just smiled at the them and sighed. She turned to her mate and said, “I told you, I was right.”

  
Dismissively, he answered, “Yes, Darling. You are incredibly wise and intuitive,” then grabbed Cassian’s collar, “we will leave you two alone. For now. Have fun.”

  
Amren tossed the coins she had just received from Cassian onto the bar and turned to Elain, “This should cover your bill. Have fun getting to know that wingspan.” Azriel choked next to her.

  
Relief and mortification simultaneously washed through Elain. She sagged against Azriel as they left to sit at their own table.

  
Azriel spoke slowly, “That… could have been worse.” Elain did not bother responding.

Before they could return or throw any more awkward glances their way, they got up and left the restaurant.

 

* * *

  
Again, with her arm wrapped around his waist and his arm tightened around her upper body, they made their way back to down the streets.

  
“I know I said it as a joke in the restaurant, but would you like to stay the night? I know this is new. We’re new.”

  
Elain reached on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on his neck. She made sure he was looking down at her when she nodded at him, “I will always choose to stay with you if you ask. I will always choose you.”

  
There were times when Azriel looked at her like he was bewildered by her, like he was looking at her now, “It’s terrifying how much I love you, Elain.” And when he bent down to kiss her, Elain could not help but be excited that she would be happily terrified by Azriel for the rest of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Thanks for reading! Please comment! Any criticism is good criticism!


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